


Vignettes

by Antarktica



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Behind the Scenes, Canon Compliant, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, In this house we don't ignore Casey Novak instead we protect her, Post-Episodes, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-05-06 20:35:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14655708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarktica/pseuds/Antarktica
Summary: Constantly blurring into each other; a brief evocative description, account, or episode





	1. witness

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this because I thought, hell, why not? And I'm a firm believer of the fact that Alex and Casey were acquainted way before Ghost happened--something happened. The looks and gazes they share in Ghost set my gaydar on fire. Special thanks to Maddie for hyping me up on writing this.
> 
> Check her out on fanfic dot net-- ThatCalexShipper ; she's an amazing Calex writer.

The dripping staccato the sink makes seemed enough to distract her. She should probably get it fixed, it’s been doing that for months. It’s ridiculous now because she perfectly knew the counts and intervals of the dripping. One, two. One, two. Sometimes it can go on until 3 and stop for 2 seconds and go again. It’s so peaceful in her home. Silence had been her company ever since she moved here, the TV somehow always on CNN but turned down to a low volume. White noise. Silence again.

It’s almost reminiscent of the way her ears rang when she got shot. How Olivia’s voice drowned in the background, her hands frantically trying to apply ample enough pressure on Alex’s shoulder—fright in her eyes and the sides of her lips trembling. She tries to get up from where she sat on the carpet but her legs were dead. Prickly now, like an itch waiting to be scratched, she stretched it out.

      _Bang_!

She instinctively ducks, covers the back of her head and stays still, her heart racing rapidly. Following after the noise was a loud resounding apology, “Sorry, Kyle, your car’s busted!” It was one of her neighbor’s, Vincent, she does not know, probably the car’s muffler. It wasn’t enough to keep her from trembling; fear. She’s back on the cold slab once again, in shock, terrible pain on her shoulder and Olivia putting pressure on it. She’s back as Alex Cabot, terrified Alex Cabot, shot to her death. Voices of reassurance, that she’ll be fine, that she should stay conscious, drowned as she sank further.

The Marshalls intercepted her in the hospital, the first faces she sees when she wakes up (she didn’t think she would). “Alexandra Cabot is officially dead.” It’s some agent that says it to her, she doesn’t remember their faces, she was still out of it, her vision still blurry but it was enough for her to tell she had just died. Albeit not literally, but inside. She lets it happen, she lets herself drown in the voices and the lies and the one she has yet to live.

She gives the breathing exercise she had seen on the TV, or was it on the paper (?), a try; a way to calm down it said. Three seconds interval from each other. Inhale. Exhale. The ringing doesn’t get worse and gradually dissipates. Inhale. Exhale. There’s still the ghost of the bullet on her shoulder and she has to bite her lip to distract herself from it. She’s laying on her carpet now, arms spread out wide, looking at the ceiling, cold sweat on her body.

    _Fuck flashbacks._ She still doesn’t want to see the shrink they wanted her to see.

Wisconsin is quiet. Wisconsin doesn’t smell as bad as New York does. Wisconsin is kind to her, neighbors always greeting her, yelling Emily from across the sidewalk, she chuckles, that was her name now. That’s _her_ now.

Emily is not her. Emily’s from Tulsa, she works at an insurance agency. She’s quiet, she’s nice, always has this smile on her face. She wears the vest per the requirement but always seem to leave an open button at times. Clumsy. She smiles kindly to anyone she passes by. Always seen biting her cheek whenever talking to an unpleasant client. There are times when Alex resurfaces into Emily. The buttons. The cheek biting to avoid a snark remark. The impish smile for the show.

Wisconsin is not home. Wisconsin’s awfully quiet and peaceful. It’s not exhaust fumes she smells when she opens her windows. It’s not car horns and god-awful yelling in 7 am, rush hour, she hears when she’s outside. Not a sound of a glass shattering because someone is out getting hammered early in the morning by some alley. No dead bodies on piles of garbage. No cases to prosecute. No friends to talk to after cases. No cop bars to hang out at. No Alex Cabot fighting for justice.

Her teeth gritted at the thought. She couldn’t stop thinking like a prosecutor. She is— _was_ a prosecutor, the notion picks on the ghost of the bullet on her shoulder, gun aimed at her heart. It’s another quiet night that she spends, curled on the carpet, fists turning white. Frustration wasn’t her brand. Neither was being helpless.

So, she gets up, not picking up after her pieces still from the cold sidewalk but moving forward—always.

* * *

She goes to work. 9 to 5. No sudden calls in the middle of the morning for warrants. No urgent messages on her phone. Emily’s life is utterly normal. Boring. Exhaustingly peaceful.

Honestly, it’s bland like the coffee she’s drinking alone in the middle of the day. It’s either sunny or thunderstorms in Wisconsin. But today, it seems the sun just would not give up. It casts rays on Alex’s hands, she actually thought it’d go through her—she felt like a ghost, wandering around aimlessly. Rays she deliberately ignored.

She basically had learned the magic of tuning people out, looking at faces but not really _looking_. It frightens her sometime, that someone in a crowd could be her killer. She supposes she needed someone to talk to about it—but an utterly ridiculous thought passes by her mind, what if her therapist was her shooter? She laughed.

Paranoid and Alexandra Cabot never quite went well in a sentence.

She thinks of New York, and it helps her both calm down and bite the inside of her lips. The awful retching smell of New York. Long lines. Busy streets. Violence—she shakes her head, an attempt to discard the following thoughts. She thinks about New York, but only on the surface, she thinks way too deep and she’s dragged down in the rabbit hole. Again. Even in this state, she knows it’s the worst idea her mind could ever culminate.

She wonders about Manhattan. Thinks how the Manhattan’s DA office is managing without her. It’s not that she’s _that_ important, she actually managed to goad some Marshalls to keep an eye on the office, just so she’d be updated. Hoping someday, she’ll return and prosecute the bastards who stole her life as Alexandra Cabot. Wondering who had been put up as her replacement—

_Casey Novak._

That’s the name she gets from the Marshall agent who was kind enough to keep her up to date, when she asks about her replacement. Branch _did listen_ to her, she was almost glad they had that topic, though at the moment she loathed it. She wanted to fight for the victims for the rest of her lifetime’s work, if she could, she’ll never leave. But Branch took the hypothetical turn, the _if_ path. And as much as she told herself she didn’t think about it, she did and the very first name that came up from her mouth was Casey Novak.

She said she only knew the name by reputation. Not quite the whole truth. She usually sees the redhead striding, passes by her in elevators, acknowledging each other with a nod. She was certain they had talked, if not briefly at a gala and an obligatory photo was taken (She probably had a copy stashed in one of a book she owns somewhere; despite the tipsy mess she was) and perhaps more after that because she distinctly remembers getting into a cab with the redhead.  It’s only a walking, blurred out figure she sees when she thinks of how her replacement is in the court room.

The younger ADA’s name had been the talk when she got in the office; she was young—naïve. A bit of crappy office controversy that Alex didn’t partake because it’s a sugarcoat for their awful shit talking in the office. Small talk, they’d say, Alex had overheard one too many times that she snapped, not quite in behalf of Novak but because it was just distasteful and that the other was not around to defend herself. She wondered, if Novak even defended herself.

Her thoughts delve further to the poor soul who had been designated to fill her shoes. Casey Novak. The name makes a jump on her lips and it’s bizarre—like the owner of the name.

The silhouette is kind. Warm. Frankly, when she first saw her, Alex had got the feeling the other was too soft, too innocent. She could be wrong, although it’s a rare chance. Because the warmth had something beneath it, a rage, a fire, a will to fight that could par with hers. White Collar was a disservice to Novak’s skills, she remembered herself saying it to Branch before they came to a conclusion in their conversation. Her conviction rate spoke for itself but Alex made it a point not to just look at the number but how the other approaches her cases. It was the exact opposite of hers but it’s effective, nonetheless. And no, she’s not being overcritical, just a bit curious. How the squad will take to her, after their previous ADA’s death.

This train of thought is fairly better than the previous ones she had for the past few days.

Alex flutters her eyes close. And if she was being honest to herself, she saw Casey Novak’s face like the very first time she’d seen her. The look on Casey’s eyes seemed so meek, distant. That was the very first time. The second had been more pleasant. Then there were so many thirds, interrupted, by phone calls, texts, and work—they basically laughed it off until the gala.

 Alex eventually finds herself wondering if she’ll ever get to properly meet her; a chance to get to know, maybe. There’s an instance in her head, and it doesn’t seem like a figment of her imagination—it seemed very real yet also blurry. It’s awfully quiet but at least the storm inside her has calmed down. It’s odd that the chaos inside her has dissipated, even for a moment, at the thought of a person who is a complete stranger to her.

Suddenly, the thought of red suddenly doesn’t seem so frightening now.


	2. post-serendipity

She sleeps, its peaceful breaths she takes and not ragged pants and stomping footsteps, rushing to the aid of the little girl. _She found her_. She knows she did. She lies quietly on her bed, eyes fluttering beneath closed lids. The rushing sound of water in her ears.

She opens her eyes, hopeful to see the blue hues of water but instead is met with the vast darkness and inky liquid—a pool of coal black ink. She could not move a muscle. It rises around her, enveloping itself on her space. She lays, awake, helpless. The dark swarming behind her eyelids. She does not blink. She does not feel.

It’s darkness that she’s confronted with. The perverse reality that she had to face today. The sickness and the virus from the scums of the earth. It’s insidious and wraps itself around her neck, threatening to choke the life and innocence out of her. There isn’t much left. The black ink finds their way to her orifices, curling into the small of her back, past the curve of her thigh.

She holds her breath. The black ink rises past her ears and nose, finding every way inside of her and slowly sinking her along with it.

XXX

Casey jolts up from her deep slumber. Her sheets long been forgotten, kicked off from the bed and now laying in a chaotic pattern on her bedroom floor. She takes heaves of breaths, sweat gathering on the sides of her forehead.

She felt like she was drowning. Like she had been forcefully held down by some unknown entity—god. This was only one case—and she actually won it. But it doesn’t feel like winning at all. Straight homicides, all glory. This—this was much more different—much more distasteful, cruder, that it paints homicides like a children’s game. She should have listened when they said, if there’s anything worse than serial murderers, it’s serial sexual murderers.

God, that was just a nightmare. _Just a nightmare._

She scrambles away from her bed, forcefully carrying herself away from it while the back of her hands wipes away the cold sweat from her forehead.

“Jesus.” She bumps the side of her stomach on her desk and it succeeds on waking her up. She stumbles on a few more other things, a towel, her shoes. Her place had been a complete mess, particularly her bedroom, when she had been transferred to SVU.

 _Fuck._ Not this train of thought—again. She bites in dread from Branch’s decision, but he had just imparted his sage-like wisdom to her and Casey couldn’t just simply thrash around like a child, and demand she goes back to White Collar—as much as she wanted to. She cannot comprehend how could she have been chosen to handle this sickness and perverseness.

It’s immature thoughts that follow—she does not get why Cabot couldn’t just have stayed alive—had been more careful. Casey chuckles at herself. She was being ridiculous. The blonde lawyer had been great. The Great Alexandra Cabot, the office called her, but she certainly wasn’t a superwoman to be able to catch bullets with her fingertips.

Casey had offered her peace and prayers to the lawyer. She had offered all of it. And in return, she fills Alex’s big shoes. Branch had lied about that or rather told her a half truth. It isn’t just Alex shoes she had to fill—she has to fill the inexplicable void she left in the people she worked with. Be a well-suited substitute for the camaraderie.

_She can’t do that._

Casey had seen it, in Olivia’s eyes—how she was constantly measuring her up. Casey could hear her thoughts—Alex would have done this and that; she surprises herself by agreeing to it, though it did sound like something Cabot would have done. She’ll never be Alex Cabot. God she could never be.

She brews herself a cup of coffee. In 3 am in the morning, when she has to be in around 7 am at the office. No use of getting back to sleep now, she thinks, looking at the mirror and seeing her face. It’s the same expression she had when Charlie had hurt her—he always apologized, and she knew he meant it. They always do apologize.

It is not only the most repellent cases that makes Casey want to throw up. It’s a constant reminder of Charlie—who he was, what he’d done—despite her having moved on—it probably isn’t long before they come across a schizophrenic. She doesn’t want to ask about previous cases, she read them, she knows them. She doesn’t ask because it’ll be about how it felt and she never liked feeling.

Feeling had happiness but Casey didn’t have much of that, so all that was left for her was pain and loneliness. She didn’t have friends outside of work. She only fraternizes when she goes to the annual office league matches. She’s usually alone in the cages and doesn’t talk to anyone unless approached.

It’s a lonely life she leads, but it’s a life anyway. She supposes it’s deliberate she pushes away people but it’s better. Homicides aren’t fit for small talk. Much more with the details of her new purview that Branch had given her. Arthur Branch still strike her odd. She couldn’t quite believe he had his eyes on her when they had Alex Cabot on the helms.

It seemed insulting to Alex. She certainly wouldn’t have wanted their superior to eye someone for your position, when you haven’t even decided to leave. But she moves aside these thoughts for now. Her coffee’s done. She takes a sip of it and takes it with her to her desk, her stupid desk which made her side ache.

Her eyes hover over the case files, ones Alex had left—god the lawyer did not know how to take a fucking break. It may seem disrespectful but it may be a bit hypocritical of Casey—she had done the same back then. No one took Alex’s box. She even asked Donnelly to take it but no one wanted to do so. Even the guys who manage the storage room didn’t want to take it, personal effects should be taken home and not go with the case files down at the basement. She squinted at them while they said it.

Where was home for these personal effects?

Home was Alex Cabot. But she's gone—so she keeps them. Casey can't even figure out the reason she decided to keep them in her apartment. It couldn't have been her brief acquaintanceship and some other thing with the former ADA. It saddens her to just let it go to the garbage--maybe Olivia will keep it. Until then, she won't let it gather dust in her home. 

A memory flashes at the back of her mind. _Shit_. That memory was supposed to be buried. Now it's burned itself into her mind again. It was a sloppy mistake--a decision not thought thoroughly or not at all. A deliberate drunken _almost_ mistake.

She lets her gaze hover on Cabot's stuff. It wasn't much. But that made it more like her, she supposes. Pencils, pens. Day planner. She thought it was the notebook Alex took notes on so she deliberately opened it and saw dates and names instead so she just shut it. It was the other black notebook. It's fucking ridiculous how there's only three colors Alex seems to choose from. Casey sees scribbles of writing, that she's thankful she can understand. She apologizes, somewhere at the back of her mind for criticizing Cabot's color scheme. 

It's all scribbles but she had coffee now so it’s a scribble that's eligible to her eyes.  _Gather more evidence. Holes in testimony. Need corroboration._  Casey chuckles when she finds a somehow lost reminder-- _Cancel dates. Just go get coffee and conquer caseloads._  It's the first phrase she saw that didn't carry stress from Cabot.    

She tinkers with the then-ADA’s stuff, it’s probably invasion of privacy but—a photo slides down from one book she pulled out of the box. She picks it up and scrutinizes it, it was a photo of Cabot. Just Cabot beaming at someone, the sun gracing her skin and her blonde locks. Casey feels the need to take a deep breath all of the sudden.

_She is beautiful._

She’s basically rendered speechless at this point. She forcefully tucks back the photo inside the book—thoughts still not quite gathering itself. It was all new to her—seeing Cabot smiling brightly like that. She didn’t know that Cabot. In fact, she didn’t know _her_ at all. She scoffs at herself because even if she tucked in the photo back where she found it—the image of Cabot beaming is etched at the back of her mind.

 _God._ She distracts herself with the case files this time. It works, even for a moment; she didn’t know she put Alex’s case file on her box too, so she’s taken aback when she sees another photo of Cabot. She suddenly felt a cold breeze—maybe she left a window open—that or Alex was telling her to stop snooping on her stuff and is haunting her right now.

She laughs at the fact such thought crossed her mind. She puts down the files back on her desk, taking the last sip from her coffee. Maybe a shower could fix how disoriented she feels from herself right now. God, maybe it’ll wash away the feelings she has on her system now. Though, if she was being honest, washing away any reminder of Alex Cabot away from her person was something she didn’t want.

Casey takes a deep breath. It’s new but it’s not unwelcomed. Somehow, the thought of blonde locks and beaming smile had steadied her breathing and given her a peace of mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this headcanon that the Marshalls moved Alex immediately and couldn't get her office stuff and someone just packed it up but kind of forgot it was there. Then Casey arrives and she's just clueless on where to put it--circumstances surface--so she ends up keeping it. 
> 
> She lowkey falls in love with the idea of Alex and she doesn't really know what to do with that knowledge and just brews on it for years.
> 
> So basically, they're both falling in love with the idea of each other. That's why they're so goddamn awkward. 
> 
> P.S. : The whole nightmare stuff was inspired by Hannibal; watch it, the cinematography is something.


	3. want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longing for something they can never have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long overdue update--I know. It's been on my drafts for weeks but I could never settle with it lol but here it is!

Alex was never great with taking time off. She accrued so much of vacation days that Donnelly actually had to force her to use some of them. Donnelly as her boss couldn’t certainly do that but as a friend, as she clearly stated, she’d love to see Alex take time off. It was ridiculous.

Even more now that on the days she started spending it, she didn’t know she’d be taking an even longer vacation. Maybe she’s just bad at relaxing. Maybe, maybe she’s just homesick, a year in this state of Alex Cabot being officially dead. Erased from the face of the earth and replaced with a woman who works at an insurance agency named Emily. This stint, this lifetime stint seemed like a whole vacation designed to stress Alex. The Marshalls said she’d have to get used to being Emily, and maybe forget being Alex Cabot. She didn’t bite that, she just would not, because somewhere inside of her, always, always hopes that she could be back as Alex Cabot. Out of this program. Out of this cage.

Could she really blame herself? Maybe. She brought herself to this situation. She chose to be stubborn instead of just biting her tongue and then maybe she wouldn’t have gotten shot— _shit._ _I’m going there again,_ she bites her lower lips, choosing to concentrate more on the phone call that’s white noise to her ears now. Something about calling back and a _beep_.

Being Emily was exhausting.

* * *

Casey rolls her eyes at the amount of caseloads she still haven’t cleared up—after a year of working on them. It’s an astonishing amount but at least most of it is hers now than Cabot’s, that in itself pleased her. Her secretary had been leaving quips that maybe she should take a vacation. She must have squinted at her because Jenny had made a funny face at her and just left the room.

Her head shoots up from the desk when there’s a knock on the door.

“—Hey, Casey, out for drinks? I mean, we told you this earlier, we just wanted to make sure you won’t skip out this time. We do want you there.” Olivia had come down to her office. To ask her out to drinks. Again. (Because she profusely declined one before—she actually forgot her lame excuse then) One she had told them she wasn’t so sure about considering her workload. Olivia seems to know it by the unease in her voice but she asks anyway.

Casey lazily drags her eyes at the papers around her, it felt like the work was going to suffocate her and that the ground was just suddenly going to split apart and swallow her alive. Olivia was probably looking at her like she was weird. Maybe.

“You know what,” Casey tosses her hands up in the air as if in surrender and gets up from her desk. “—I need a drink.”

* * *

She’s out to drinks with some of her coworkers. No harm in it. Emily was humorous. Less of deadpan and more actual humor than Alex. She laughs at some not really funny joke of one of the guys. Anything to make her day a bit more like a day than a living nightmare of constant reminders.

Scotch on the rocks. Her coworkers were amazed when she had downed it and ordered for another. Alex was resurfacing into Emily’s demeanor. God. She swirls her drink in front of her lazily, declining to dance on the floor and just watches her coworkers sport their mad 80s moves. One of her coworkers stayed with her, a redhead, awfully similar to someone she didn’t want to really think about.

“—you’re weird.” Her coworker says and Emily sports a nervous laugh at that.

But the word redhead had a face in her mind now and it can never be this coworker of hers, Abigail. She’s amazed at herself for remembering the name, she usually blanks them out. Alex had actually tried to convey to everyone that she—Emily—was straight, which of course, she wasn’t. She’s already being forced to live as someone clearly different from her own self, she will not choose to leave against her own grain too. Besides, what’s the harm?

“—hey, Emily, let’s get out of here.” She was slurring, Alex could tell that much. The scotch had almost made her numb at the hand on her knee. The leaning in way too closely. She may not be Alex at the moment but Emily isn’t dumb enough to tell what this is. She doesn’t even affirm to getting out, she just lets Abigail take her hand to somewhere.

Alex is just tired of feeling lonely.

* * *

They finally arrived at the cop bar the squad goes to whenever they got a conviction and felt like celebrating. She sees Munch and Fin talking, probably debating on something again and Elliot just looking at them with an amused expression whilst nursing his beer, then took a glance at the door chiming.

“Hey, you managed to haul Casey out of her cave.” Casey smiled wryly at Elliot’s quip, taking the seat between him and Olivia in that little roundtable they got in the bar. This was her safe spot, kind of in between Elliot and Olivia. They got along now, if compared to the very first day she met them.

“—what’ll you have, Case?” Fin asked, promptly making Munch shut up on his conspiracies again that Casey even after a year, never failed getting amusement out of.

“Scotch on the rocks will do my nerves wonders.”

“You heard the lady.” Munch said, getting up from his seat and went to the counter to get more drinks. Casey waited meekly for her drink, at least that’s what she wanted to do.

“Hey, loosen up the nerves, Casey.” Olivia said, patting her on the shoulders, making her jump out of her skin. Casey had no idea why she’d just done that so she just apologizes.

“—I-I’ll try. The caseloads completely took over my whole system. Sorry.” She passes an apologetic look to Olivia and Elliot, who gives her a reassuring look that she’s doing great. He was kind of her buffer.

Fin and Munch comes back with drinks, glass clinking to one another.

“More beers and scotch on the rocks for Miss Novak who fought for our case, tooth and nail.”

She manages a smile at that and accepts her drink, “Thank god.” Casey says as soon as the burning liquor runs awash in her throat, apparently, she downed it. She only knows that when she sets her glass down and sees the surprised expression on her colleagues face.

“Is that a running theme with our ADAs or what?” Munch said, his ears perking up the moment he says what.

“—What?”

“We’ve just never seen someone except Alex down scotch like that, though you must be really stressed, Casey.” Elliot answered her question. Oh, it reminded them of Alex. She didn’t know. Why would she?

“—just a bit. I need another.” Her voice is hoarse now. And there’s clinking of glasses again. The squad looked a bit too amused for her so she quirks an eyebrow, as if asking what again.

“—I guess we just kind of miss Alex.”

Casey weighs on her choices now and throws it right in the trash can. Not like it’ll harm her. “Let’s talk about her then.” She says, nonchalance in her voice. She could use some reminder of her predecessor as distraction right now.

“Have you two met before?”

“Kind of. A gala. Blonde and prim. Pretty. I remember thinking what’s a Disney princess doing there, like she couldn’t possibly be a lawyer then Mary—Judge Clark told me that was the great Alexandra Cabot, my feet was glued to the floor until she came over to talk to me.”

“Alex is all over the place like that.” They all shared laughter at that. Casey takes a sip of her scotch and readjusts herself in her chair.

“I thought she was just going to introduce herself and leave me be, you know what she said,” Everyone perked closer as if asking what. “— _I had the same look, come on, I’ll steal you from Judge Clark for a few minutes_. We didn’t even know each other but I went with her.”

Everyone looked surprised at that apart from Olivia who just nodded and said, “—she is that kind of a smooth talker. A lawyer.”

“Yeah, she was nice.” She swirls her drink in front of her. If Casey picks up that there was something more to what Olivia was saying, she waved it off. “Wish she didn’t leave me with a lot of caseloads and ridiculous notes though. Can’t believe you’re all sitting here and telling me she had time to hang out.” They were just remembering Alex. God, remembering. There’s a tugging feeling inside her that wants to get to know the blonde more. If only the world had given her more chances, save for the ones Alex had stolen for her. She doesn’t know why entirely, but she misses her.

* * *

She shouldn’t be doing this. At least that’s what Alex is thinking as she’s letting Abigail help her out of her clothes hastily, kicking her skirt out of the way as they make their way to her bedroom.  Cold fingertips fumbling under her blouse and a hungry smirk on her face. One moment there’s sucking in the spaces between her neck and shoulders and then there’s bites on her jawline. She kicks out her shoes as soon as she pushes Abigail down to her bed, straddling her and pinning down her hands on the mattress.

Alex soon goes into a trance and just lets herself be led by her instincts—her mind going somewhere else. She doesn’t realize that she’d done a deliberately good job being led by her instinct until Abigail is panting by her side on the bed.

“Do I look like her?” She suddenly says and Alex almost jumps out of her own skin. _Her?_

Her brows creases at the question, not quite understanding it. “Who?”

“Casey. It sounds like a man’s name but the way you said it plus the way you basically just went with me told me it’s definitely a woman. She’s a redhead too, isn’t she?” Alex holds back the urge to roll her eyes and just looks down at Abigail’s curled form. She didn’t take much pleasure on being proven wrong, what more of being declared to that they were right on their guess. As if knowing what was going on in her head, Abigail chuckles and shifts on the bed, facing her general direction.

“Don’t worry, no attachments, I kind of thought you were cute. Just didn’t know someone has you already.”

 _Has_ —ownership? Alex quirks her eyebrow still but doesn’t speak a smart retort. “No one _has_ me.”

“That’s a bit difficult to believe, Emily, considering you said her name when you were about to climax.”

Alex rolls her eyes this time. Casey Novak definitely does not _have_ her when they both don’t know each other _that much_. Or maybe it was just her—to long, for something old, for something familiar. It was just Alex Cabot to want something she possibly could not have.

* * *

Olivia offers to give her a ride home and she _accepts_. It was a nice gesture and Olivia didn’t seem like she was going to take a no, and Casey didn’t really feel like walking while inebriated. Olivia laughs at her when she just tries to wave her hand no while standing up, which wasn’t a good idea as she wobbles and almost stumbles in front of the detective.

Casey settles herself by the car window, feeling a bit lightheaded. “Cabot’s well missed, isn’t she?” She surprises herself by speaking up. Olivia’s body tenses at the mention of Alex, and she just waves it off-maybe she just didn’t want to be reminded, maybe she should change the topic—

“Yeah, she is. I think you two would’ve gotten along.” Olivia suddenly says and Casey cannot help but look at her, quite in disbelief at the statement that they would’ve gotten along. But she doesn’t find herself rebutting to it anytime soon, Cabot is-was kind, probably a bit too managed for Casey’s preferences but even in that brief moment Casey could swear she’d never met someone like Alex-and she was certain she wouldn’t be.

“This work takes toll on all of us, I think Alex could have used a friend like you who would understand.” Olivia doesn’t let her speak still, clarifying, “—I was one of her friends but there are some aspect to this job that only those who have a certain duty have this certain understanding of how to work around in their purview. Being a detective and being a lawyer are two different things.”

Casey could only manage a nod. “Alex is that take in charge person, and now I kind of wish she wasn’t.” She doesn’t know Cabot much but she finds herself agreeing to the statement. Maybe she did know Cabot. Maybe in that brief moment she already did. She always did had a bad habit of wanting something when it’s long gone.


	4. Ghost;re

Casey couldn't simply let this case be thrown out. Charging deliberately wasn't her exact play, but she'd done it. She said the words as soon as Judge Preston had decided to let Connors not be locked away. This bastard wasn't going to walk for 5 murders, one being of an ADA. God, one she could say she knew by reputation and admired. One she had to replace under such horrible circumstance. The aftermath of what Connors had done. There wasn't a doubt in Casey's heart and mind that this guy shot Cabot, she just had to prove it and by any means, she bloody will.

That's the least she could do.

* * *

Maybe she purposely ignored the shocked expressions of Olivia and Elliot's face. Maybe she spent too many nights mulling over the fact she can never replace Alex Cabot. Maybe she spent too many hours staring at this one photograph of the both of them from a gala, she can't even recall most of. It's odd because she kept it. She doesn't quite know why. Perhaps it was the way that the blonde had smiled in it, it wasn't quite anything Casey had seen before.

Still, she doesn't—didn't know Alex Cabot. Only by reputation. There's a want inside Casey since then, a chance to get to know this person that seemed all too bizarre for her. The complete opposite of her. Casey shakes her head at the next thoughts, she can't go there. Not today. Not when she's trying the bastard who murdered Alex.

Spending the rest of her day, after indicting Connors, mulling over the victim of the case she's trying wasn't the way she'd usually spend it. Her fingers keep clicking on the pen, rhythmically. 3 seconds interval between the clicking. It kept her mind in line, at the very least. She was still in the office, even when Donnelly had told her to go home and rethink her play thoroughly.

 _Play._  Casey almost laughed.

If only it was as simple as playing. She takes a deep breath and think of a better way to spend her time. Perhaps not mulling over a death that happened a year ago. She chuckles. She'll never get over it. She never did. Not when she's clutching onto this one photograph that only screamed lost chances at her every time she caressed it.

There was something.

Great that's what she was thinking now, after a year of convincing herself that maybe, there wasn't. Maybe she was just seeing things. Maybe she just imagined the way Alex had touched her shoulder at the gala, as if she knew her so well. Maybe she's forgetting the fact that she didn't mind.

_Fuck._

She shuffles the files in an attempt to organize them but ends up setting them down along with the unorganized folders. She'll deal with them later. Her telephone rang.

"Novak. Sex Crimes."

"Casey, this is Cragen," Her breath hitches. Cragen's tone sounded way too ominous even over the phone. "—we have something to tell you."

* * *

She dropped the call the second  _Alex_  and  _alive_  was said. She didn't know what to feel then. She barely thinks about how long Cragen had to wait to be able to tell her this information. Relief? Happiness? She stood, completely still, for at least three minutes, out of it.  _Alex is alive_. She'd only been frozen like this twice in her life and they had something to do with a case. The third time however, being about the entire fact that Alex was very much alive and got stashed into witness protection.

(Has Alex come back to New York? She'll have to testify now—what if she gets in danger again? Scratch that, she'll be jumping straight into the crosshairs this time, and then she wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it. She'll have to change the charge again and— _Breathe, Casey_ )

She should be happy.  _Happy._  She'd never known what happy truly meant. She finds she could finally move so the first thing she does was to close the door to her office and shut the blinds.  _Alone._ She breathes in the air but it all felt so empty. If the world wasn't monochrome then, it definitely was now.

Their obligatory photo laid on the top of her desk, actually, it was the only thing on top of it that seemed out of place. Casey looks at it. She'd been carrying it for years, sometimes looking at it as a guide, but most as comfort. She doesn't quite know why. She never bothered to find out why because she was fucking busy filling the vast void Alex had left in her wake.

She remembers her anger. Albeit, misplaced, it was still anger she felt. She'd stared at it one night, asking, how could she? A reputation like that should be protected and not tossed to the side, to only let it fall over the ditch, the gaps between the awful fucking world who can't help itself. Alex got dragged in it, when she only thought about fighting for what was right.

There's a knock on the door but she ignores it. It doesn't resound for the fourth time but she hears the door click and open. She remembers closing it.

"Casey." The voice said.

She doesn't look up, only hears footsteps getting closer to where she sat.

"Casey," It's soft this time, and perhaps it'd be rude if she didn't look up now. There was no way she didn't recognize the voice. God, she heard it everywhere. Anytime she walks into a courtroom, she could swear she could hear Alex Cabot's voice haunting the place. Whenever she goes in one, alone, she could hear faint footsteps, loud voices, but mostly a resilient tone, one that fades away slowly and ghosts over her ears before going away.

"I'm alive." Alex's tone spoke to her as if they knew each other very well. God, they didn't.

Very much so. Casey wanted to say but her words are choked up in her throat, she doesn't know why. She only looks at her, not entirely surprised but not entirely happy either. Shoot, their photo on her desk—

"—You have it."  _You kept it._  Yes, she bloody well kept it for no goddamn reasons she could possibly explain to the very much alive Alex Cabot.

She flinches when Alex takes a step near. Casey almost moves away from her seat, afraid of any contact with Alex, as her hands almost seemed to reach for her—but then she held onto their photo instead. She smiled.

"—I couldn't find my copy of this." If there's anyone more awful than her in small talk, it would be Alex Cabot. And a way more terrible liar than she is, it would be probably had it stashed somewhere in a book, not remembering the title but the contents not quite forgotten.

Alex stands there, looking at the photo—their photo—on her hand. As if reminiscent of the times they shared. There wasn't much, Casey could count it in one hand. 3 shared moments (or perhaps more she can't quite recall; it was always like being in a haze being around Alex Cabot). All absolutely brief (maybe this was a lie) but spoke far way too many truths she did not want to face. The first had said familiarity in between questions asked to their company. The second had been about quick glances towards the others direction in an office party. The third, well, that was when the gala happened and she managed to muster up the courage to go approach the great Alexandra Cabot (after three margaritas), and some more details she can't remember; it seemed hazy.

Suddenly, she relives that moment and her throat doesn't feel like someone was strangling her anymore. No knots.

"—a year and a half."

_You made everyone believe you were dead._

_A year and a half, I kept thinking how to replace the big void you'd scooped out with your death._

_A year and a half, you were alone and miserable, Alex._

_A year and a bloody half of me thinking I missed my chance with you._

"—Casey, you don't owe me anything."  _Neither do you._ Casey bites a scoff back because she could hear Alex's next words in her head, "you don't have to do this." As _fucking_  if.

"I'm not doing this because I owe you anything." Her voice betrays her because her voice cracks when she said 'you'. Perfect. "I'm doing this because I—I thought—" _Not now._

She takes a deep breath, thinks of all the exercises she'd read on a newspaper on the internet, post-Charlie. It helps, even for a few seconds.

"—This is the least I could do." Casey feels strength on her legs again and stands up. "Well, now that you're here, it's not much."

"Casey—" Alex takes another step closer to her, placing their photo back on her desk and her hands now clearly reaching out to Casey. She doesn't flinch this time but she flutters her eyes close; perhaps this was one of her episodes, maybe she was imagining Alex, in her office, her hands on her cheeks. "I'm sorry."

She doesn't quite know what Alex is apologizing for. Sorry, because she's actually alive? Sorry because they had to know in this kind of situation?

There's tears streaming down her face now and she feels embarrassed that she could not stop it.

"I know. Reasons, Alex, we all have it. I just—" Alex closes the distance between them, their foreheads touching together, and her hands still cupping Casey's face.

They don't do this. They never did this but it seems all-too familiar, too intimate.

"I'm sorry." She has apologized two times now. Casey doesn't quite see the point of it. Doesn't see past the arms cradling her close. Doesn't see how Alex's hands wipe away her tears—that she's crying on Alex's arms, murmuring,

" _I thought you were gone._ "

She apologizes again. For the third time. Casey almost wants to laugh because she made Alexandra Cabot apologize three times to her, without even asking for it. She's trying to stop the tears but Alex had made a complete mess out of her. God, they didn't even know each other but she's crying over the fact that Alex is back.

She missed her so much.

* * *

Alex found herself fumbling her hands, contemplating whether to open the door. She wasn't supposed to be this early, she wasn't supposed to see anyone but the Marshall got off her back. Or at least she told him he could keep an eye out but in moderate distance. He knew she was headed to the DA's office, and he advised against it.

Usually, she'd follow rules but today, she wanted to break this one.

She takes a deep breath, still fidgety, unsure about her next choice of action. She knocks anyway, hoping. She supposes its bad manners to enter anyway, but she twists the knob and she's surprised its open. She says her name. It's firm—her voice threatened to crack.

Entering the room, she sees the redhead's figure, head looking below a photo on her desk. She calls out for her again, her voice calmer, measured—gentle this time.

Casey reluctantly lifts her head up, not quite certain of what she's seeing. She looked like she saw a ghost. Did she look like one now? Alex thinks to herself, taking a step closer to Casey's desk. It's odd, this was her office back then.

"I'm alive." Perhaps, she said it in a ghostly voice, because Casey's expression doesn't change. Was she gone that long? She manages small talk, something being alone couldn't quite improve, she's terrible at it. And despite being an attorney, her affinity towards lying doesn't work well outside of court grounds.

She wonders what's going through Casey's mind. She never quite knew what went on the younger ADA's head, and usually she could say she could map someone's train of thoughts or at least be familiar with it. She picks up the photo from the desk and takes a moment to admire it.

They were so young. Alex almost laughs because they didn't quite know each other well when this photo was taken. They still don't. But a point in her stands that they stood quite close to each other, never seeming to want to leave each other's side. Perhaps all these times of being a ghost made her see things she desperately wanted. She had been left alone inside her own head that Alex had actually fooled herself at some point that she did not know who Casey Novak was.

Technically, she did not. But it felt like she did. It was all confusing—she'd basically just given up; understanding Casey Novak and denying that she had been hopelessly attracted to the other ever since then. However long ago then was. A fact Alex hasn't completely reconciled with because it's desperately melting its way through the icy walls she had deliberately built.

Casey's voice brings her out of her reverie. She wasn't much good in monologues outside of court. She notices anger behind the other's voice. And the long pause wasn't lack of dialogue. In fact, it was more of their version of dialogue. Silence. A pause. Words never said but spoken between the gaps of silence and breaths. In sighs and scoffs. The way Casey's eyes would flicker. The way her eyebrows twitched.

"—Casey, you don't owe me anything." She finds herself saying despite knowing Casey wouldn't listen. Alex knows enough that the other is as stubborn as her. Casey goes on, about how this was the least she could do. She feels herself clutch her knuckles tight involuntarily. She could've just let someone take the case. Not prosecute this. But Casey was kind, too kind for this god-awful forsaken universe, that she'll fight her way through, no matter what it takes.

There's something about Casey's passion that draws Alex close yet feels threatening, if not dangerous. She puts herself deliberately in harm's way and places others before her, and it wasn't just for the sake of justice (much as to what Alex had let herself to believe—sometimes justice isn't what it really is; one thing she'd learned from WPP). Alex was certain because it was what's just right.

" _Well, now that you're here, it's not much."_

Alex desperately wants to pull her into an embrace right now because she didn't take kindly that she is at fault of the worrisome expression on the younger ADA's face. She's overridden with guilt the first second she catches it.

But she can't just pull her into a hug—that's not how they are. They don't do that.

At least that's what she tells herself when her hands are reaching out to Casey's face, to comfort her. She mutters an apology but it's louder than she intended it to be said. Alex doesn't know where it came from, but god forbid she was the reason of Casey Novak's tears, she'd never forgive herself despite her voiced apologies. Witness Protection made her reconcile with the fact that she had an uncanny, if not misplaced soft spot for the redhead.

Their foreheads touch at some point—Alex finds herself taken aback by the sudden spark on her body from their contact despite initiating it. She apologizes again. She'll apologize many times as she can if it'd make Casey stop crying.

Casey's crying in her arms now. And god they don't do this but she's gently stroking Casey's hair with her hand and murmuring apologies. Alex doesn't know anyway to calm her down but it seems to work. Casey mumbles a sentence, almost incoherent to Alex.

" _I've missed you too_." She wonders, what they could have possibly missed in each other, when they so rarely crossed paths, when they so rarely conversed with each other. It's odd because Alex recalls a faint memory, somewhere in her mind, her hands firmly rested on Casey's hips, as if they were dancing to a song. If dancing to a song included hands fumbling on the back of her dress, desperate to get it removed—

_Shoot._

"— _Alex, take me home_." Did she even know where Casey lived?  _God, she did._  She'd been there before. A mistake to be forgotten, they both dubbed it as. How could she forget? Moreover, how many drinks could she have possibly downed to forget so much of a huge detail? Nothing happened, only what almost happened had caught up to her now.

It's a dangerous request which she affirms to.


	5. Ghost;Re

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long overdue. I hope you all enjoy. And thank you for the wonderful feedbacks for this fic because I really love writing them. They're so...I don't even have a word.

Their trip had been spent in silence, it was getting dark. They’re stuck outside the hallway of Casey’s humble apartment at the West Village, hands never leaving each other’s bodies.  Casey’s hands fumble on her pockets, reaching for her door keys. They jostled with one and another on the way in, Alex shutting the door close, Casey ahead of her. The scenario felt all too hazy. Her steps made contact to the ground but only brushed with it briefly.

She forgets if they even bother locking the door, Casey tugging her to her general direction, feet lazily leading them to the bedroom. She forgets that she had to notify the Marshall for any change of location (they probably had her on real time GPS, anyway). She forgets everything but the way Casey Novak’s hands burn on her skin, whispering her name and sweet nothings when they’re at the foot of her bed.

Alex lets herself be pulled down along the Casey, letting her hand rest gently on the other’s shoulders, slowly tracking their way to the sides, intertwining their hands together. It’s unbelievably dark in Casey’s room, the night lamp casts kisses of orange hues on strands of Casey’s hair splayed on the bed, only ghosting over Alex’s silhouette. She could make out Casey’s grin from the sudden bounce of light from the other’s lips. Alex untangles one of their hands and traces patterns on Casey’s lips before leaning down. She peppers her with gentle kisses, Casey tilting her head slightly to give her leeway to her neck and Alex affirms. She could smell traces of lavender on her neck as she gently kisses her way down to Casey’s collarbone, leaving the other in soft whimpers.

 She finds herself completely letting go of Casey’s hands, feeling them make patterns beneath her clothing, her skin burned all the way from her thighs to the side of her stomach, Casey undoing the buttons of her blouse. She concentrates on attaining whimpers and low moans of her name until she feels Casey’s hands tugging impatiently on her pants. In her tender attempt of coaxing moans out of the other, she had traded in her upper garments.

Before she could make as much of a movement, Casey had freed her of her belt and unzipped her pants. She takes it as a signal to do the same, Casey is more than compliant to her imitating her actions. Her teeth gently graze between the spaces of her neck, sucking on the skin lightly. She helps Casey shed off her remaining garments, mouths not leaving each other’s skin. The sudden loss of fabric sending goose bumps on Casey’s skin as Alex’s tongue trails a path down to her stomach. Each swirl of her tongue on Casey’s stomach earning her a sharp inhale, eventually, Casey’s tugging on her hair. Her hands caresses Casey’s slender body, leaving a blazing trail of unspoken words in their wake.

_I don’t deserve you. I’m so sorry, Casey. I was alone but thinking of you had made me feel less like it._

No, she does not simply take Casey. Alex’s only intention was to make love to her. To say her apologies in action. To plead for forgiveness in her touches. She’s gentle in every action she takes. Even the way her fingers stroke the inside of her thighs, the slight hiss she draws out of Casey, the growing rhythm of moans and gasps as she picks up her pace.

_You’re many things but not the crude words they say behind your back._

The spark inside her isn’t satiated in how slow she makes love to Casey but she supposes it’s enough. It’s an apology she wants to make. Not ravaging the other in bed. Casey has her head nestled at the crook of her neck, sucking lightly on the skin there, one hand clutching on her shoulder, softly moaning her name in intervals of whimpers and gasps. She escalates her pace, making the other yelp in surprise, and it isn’t long before she could feel Casey’s muscles tightening around her fingers.

She presses a kiss on her forehead, not drawing out yet and patiently waiting for her to come down from the heights of pleasure. When the intervals between Casey’s breaths even, she captures her lips gently with a kiss, drawing her fingers out by then and tenderly laying Casey on her back.

_I think what’s left unsaid is what best describes you—perfect, taken for granted; the way the world treats you does your skills disservice._

She could see her clearly now, that they’re near the night lamp, Alex wonders how they’d even get so close to the bedpost. But Casey flutters her eyes close and she almost looks ethereal in the sun kissed lighting of her room, Alex couldn’t help but trace butterfly kisses from her shoulders to her jawline, before deciding to slide the covers over on top of them, Casey seeming to have nestled comfortably on her side. She lets her hand comb through Casey’s hair, cold from sweat.

_Nothing less than who I am. Even more than I could ever be._

She wanted to write it in paper—but she leaves it in kisses, touches, marks on her skin, and maybe, maybe then it was enough. Maybe Casey would know not to seek after her attention, as much as it’d break them both. It was all too complicated—too not cut out for the both of them—but this could be enough, if Casey still chooses her.

* * *

Casey stirred awake somewhere in the dawn, waking up to the feeling of warmth enveloping her. Arms wrapped around her waist. She opened her eyes to blonde locks obscuring a part of her vision and—Alex. She couldn’t quite believe Alex didn’t leave early—or maybe she hadn’t woken up yet. She finds her hands to be wrapped around loosely Alex’s waist, she doesn’t remember doing it but it’s comfortable so she lets it stay there for a moment as she’s trying to take the view in front of her.

She attempts to move the stray strands of Alex’s hair away from her face, it’s not successful but she can see a bit more clearly now—she wanted to watch Alex sleep. She never quite figured out if the blonde had managed to look peaceful. Always with the stoic appearance, tense shoulders, clenched jaw—always on guard, as if someone was out to get her.

The sunlight peeks through her windows drapes and it has an almost unrealistic way of bouncing off of Alex’s skin. She looked like a mystical being in this lighting. Ethereal. Resting, waiting for the next time danger strikes. Even in sleep, Alex’s shoulders aren’t relaxed as hers and Casey finds herself berating the men who had done this to Alex. One she’d have to absolutely put in jail—or else whatever was the point of justice?

She brushes away some of the hair that got on Alex’s face and she eventually finds herself caressing the blonde’s well-defined face. She was just so…Alex. Cold, frightening, no-nonsense; frigid, scared, caring. Alex stirs and she momentarily has to stop, gauging whether the other had woken up but Alex just succumbs further into her touch and relaxes, as if she knows Casey’s the one touching her.

Casey smiles to herself. That one smile she’d have a hard time getting rid of—because she’ll have the image of Alexandra Cabot—in her bed, asleep peacefully—for many days etched into the back of her mind and it’ll always wash relief over any chaos boiling inside her.

Alex is the queen of timings and at that right moment Casey has this lovesick smile on her face, she had decided to flutter her eyes open, blue eyes meeting green ones. She didn’t seem entirely confused about the fact she woke up next to Casey—actually, she _smiled,_ and Casey Novak couldn’t possibly have asked for a better morning. One of her hand that she had around Casey’s waist met and squeezed the one cupping her face, she’s still smiling.

Casey moves closer and says, “You’re cute when you’re asleep.”

Alex just flutters her eyes close again, taking in the warmth and comfort she feels in the present. God, she may never want to get out of this bed—but they both had something to do today.

“I like you better awake though.” Casey could feel the impending question of how come but Alex seems to have discarded it and instead kisses her full on the lips. She immediately melts into the kiss and is quite glad that Alex parted because she wasn’t sure she could.

Alex sighed. The air between them had changed and it’s chipping away on the mended, vulnerable pieces in Casey. There’s a tinge of guilt in Alex’s eyes, as if as soon as she kissed Casey she regretted it—her mind goes there but she doesn’t delve in because it’s a different kind of guilt and it could only be about one thing, Casey gambles on it--

“—This was an apology—” Alex starts, only for Casey to cut her off. She knows well enough Alex Cabot had been great in playing the blame game but she was great in it too. Two could play at this game or not at all. They were like two ticking time bombs around each other, bottling everything up, trying to face things alone.

But, god, they had each other even when they didn’t know they did. They’d have each other—they wanted each other.

“—Alex, listen to me,” She traces Alex’s jawline, letting her fingers ghost over it slightly. “—we’d done this in the worst situation of all but I’m glad we did,” Alex tries to rebut but Casey’s finger ends up pressed on her lips, stopping her from speaking any further. “I’m not going to listen to your ‘ _I don’t guarantee this’_ speech, Alex, I don’t expect anything of you. You’re in a difficult position. But you’re here, and I want you right here, right now, for how long you can be here.” She whispers her words, slowly, intent on making Alex understand that she’s never going to walk away from this. Not when she knows she’s scared, not when she knows Alex needed someone—someone who’d just know and never have to ask.

She doesn’t know if she’s that person but she’d aspire to be. Magnets they were, trying to ignore the magnetic force pulling them together in one place, back right next to each other. It may have gotten fed up with the both of them because this time, they meet halfway through trying the man who almost killed Alex by shooting her.

Casey notices tears well up in Alex’s eyes and she feels almost guilty about it, she’d never want to be the reason to see Alex cry—unless she made her incredibly happy then she’ll take it. Alex attempts to brush away the tears but she succumbs further into sobs that Casey does it for her and eventually cradles her closer into her arms.

“—you’re not fair. I apologized.” She hears Alex mumbling into the crook of her neck. God, she really thought that if she had apologized by making love, Casey would have let her go—it only made Casey want her more.

Casey chuckled at such notion Alex had convinced herself with. “I know you did, it was a wonderful apology. I’d like more apologies from you, to be honest.” She jokes, running her fingers lightly through Alex’s blonde locks. Alex is still clutching onto her shoulders and it’s almost funny to her, she does not know whether she was whimpering or holding back a laughter, until Alex throws her head back, shaking it in mock disappointment at Casey’s response.

“I’m so glad I came to see you first.” Alex says, scrunching up her nose in an adorable way as if she’d just remembered something. “—Oh my god, we can’t let them—” Casey nods, she quite got it. Not let Liv and El know. That was easy. She still has a bit of unresolved anger at those two for _hanging her out to dry_ in court. As much as she’s glad Alex is alive, she needed to give Liv and El the cold shoulder even for a bit.

“See my angry performance later, I think you’ll be proud.”

_I’m just glad you’re here._

* * *

Alex had done her best to remain apathetic around Casey. When she walks and pretends they were just colleagues and it was the first time they had seen each other in 3 years. She thought they weren’t going to break it while preparing for court, so when Casey tells Olivia and Elliot to go on ahead, Alex cannot help but be clueless. Then Casey looked at her, picking up her case but not following after Olivia and Elliot.

Alex took a sharp inhale. Not one person in the world looked at her so intensely but also so caring and kind. Casey looked her right in the eyes, piercing, reassuring Alex that she is not doing this alone. They had to be subtle—but her hands trembled and Casey noticed, so she holds them and gives them a squeeze, not saying a word. Alex was certain Casey didn’t leave her with a kiss but she could smell a faint trace of Casey’s perfume on herself that it almost seems like she did.

Her hands trace back on the warmth Casey’s hands had given her momentarily, still feeling the ghost of Casey’s hands holding hers. _Maybe now, she was less afraid._

* * *

The whole trade was all to blame on Alex’s nerves. Her inability to communicate properly. Be articulate enough to express how she’s feeling. And she lashes out, if not in yelling, in awful quips at the last person she’d think of doing it to. Apologies immediately leave her mouth—god, for a lawyer, she is a complete idiot and prick.

Instead, Casey tells her it’s going to be hard to be the one being questioned. To be sitting on the other side and as a victim. All the while looking her straight in the eyes, as if seeing through Alex. Her whole body shook at the realization that Casey knew. She could see and she _listened._ It was not that Alex had considered Casey to be oblivious but it never occurred to her before that someone could _understand_ her. That someone could listen to her and not run away. That she could tell someone what happened in detail and it wouldn’t feel like she was dissociating again.

“Call it a night?” Casey suddenly said, knocking Alex out of her reverie. She didn’t realize she’d been sitting in the couch, arms rested on the sides and looking at one space. She didn’t even realize Casey had stood up, already fixing her stuff.

“Yes—right, I’m going to tell the Marshall I’m going back to the hotel.” The word hotel pricks at her skin and she wants to scratch it off as soon as she says it. She didn’t want to go to a hotel. She wanted to be with Casey, and they both knew that. That’s what she tells by the way Casey’s expression drooped slightly, maybe she was expecting Alex to go stay in with her, after what happened last night—

“-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to impose—“ Casey said, as if knowing what Alex was thinking.

“N-No, you weren’t. In fact, I actually considered it too until they handed me a note and told me it’ll be safer to be staying somewhere that isn’t in papers.” Alex fidgeted with her hands right after she got up, trying to help Casey with the files, still stuck up with nerves.

“Oh,” Casey stops stacking up the files on her desk and takes a few step closer to Alex. Alex knew she couldn’t look up, felt Casey’s breath near her face, could smell Casey’s distinct perfume that’s still burning in her skin. “Look at me, Alex.”

Alex meets her gaze, afraid of what Casey would see in her if she really _looked_. Casey lifts her arms up, her hands cupping the sides of her face, “I believe in you.” Alex leaned into the touch, loved the warmth Casey’s hands and presence offer her, and her words so much more.  She could feel Casey slowly lean in, their lips gently making contact. Slowly, they pulled away. Alex scanning Casey’s face for fear and finding none pleased her and then Casey suddenly spoke up,

“I wanted to do that before court but-“                                                                                                           

“I know.”

* * *

The case was on a fast track. Alex hated how fast tracked it was. Today was verdict day and it put her on the edge but not as much as Casey. She had barely seen Casey outside court. She had barely got to see Casey with that carefree smile on her face. All she saw was Casey on the edge, stressed, albeit still smiling but only for show. Alex could tell.

Alex managed to convince the Marshall that Casey’s apartment could be considered a safe house too and she slept in with Casey. Honestly, it was more of Alex telling Casey to stop bothering herself with the case and that she covered everything already for her closing remarks and give it a rest. A phrase Alex Cabot, who overworked herself to death, figuratively and literally, didn’t think she’d tell to someone or something that’s not a mirror her whole life.

Casey is cuddled close to her once again, muttering incoherence, though Alex was pretty certain it was Casey’s sleepy way of saying her name. She smiled when Casey stirred and only cuddled closer to her. Alex almost forgot how it was like to be with women. Alex forgot how it was like to love and be loved back unconditionally. Alex forgot how love worked and that it wasn’t business transactions and power. Alex remembers now, from how Casey kisses her, from how Casey touches her gently, from the way Casey’s voice goes softer when she talks to Alex, everything about Casey made her remember how it is _supposed_ to be like.  

She looks at Casey, the way the sunlight seeps through the bedroom window kisses her alabaster skin almost made Alex think they were made out of a movie. Alex draws circles at the small of Casey’s back where her hand is resting, then her other arm trying to brush away red strands of hair off Casey’s face.

Alex felt at peace watching Casey. Not stressed, sleeping and mostly muttering her name. Alex finds herself wishing for this time to never end, for time to just freeze right here and Alex would hold the remote to decide when she can let it play itself again. Or she wouldn’t, she’d just let them be here at this point, in peace, together.

* * *

Guilty on all counts.

**_Guilty on all counts._ **

The words reverberate inside Casey’s body and the drumming song that had been playing ever since she knew she was going to try Alex’s shooter had simmered into triumphant rhythms.  Relief washes over her, even for a bit as she flutters her eyes close still even after the verdict were announced. She wanted to hold Alex then. Wanted to do so much more than hold her. She knows Alex was watching her. She always was watching her and it used to intimidate Casey. It _still_ intimidated her but in some of the trial, rather in most, as Alex chose to be in most of it, she wanted Alex to watch her. To look at her.

Casey wanted to win with everything she can. So she turns around with a repressed smile, which soon becomes a genuine smile when she sees Alex smiling back at her. That was all she wanted: to see the glimmer back in Alex’s eyes.

Everything might not have been back to normal but at least now, Alex could _come home._

* * *

“We have to relocate you.”

Never did a sentence enrage everything inside of Alex. Mostly because she couldn’t object. Just like the last time. She doesn’t want this to be like the _last time._ So she looks at Hammond in aghast, she wasn’t going to bite her tongue this time.

“Connors is gone for good—“

“We have to make sure there aren’t any ripples of this news, Cabot.”

She couldn’t object to that. But Alex wanted to come home—to Casey, for good, this time.  She stands up from the chair and rakes her hands through her blonde locks. An impending panic simmering at the back of her head. Hammond only looks at her. She’s chipping away on the skin on the side of her fingers again. _Fuck - and Casey expected she’d come home—she can’t do this to her again-she just can’t bear to._

“Let me say goodbye to her-just Casey. I can’t go and not tell her this time— _please._ ”

But Hammond is already halfway out of the room. Casey and the others had probably made their way to Casey’s office, in celebration as Casey noted after they had to part ways for a moment. ( _It would’ve been **their** office, god.)_ She flutters her eyes close in pent up anger at this whole need for protection and she sees Casey looking back at her in court. In a controlled bask, all directed to her. God, she has to tell her-she has to apologize— **in person.**

Hammond stops by the door and turns around, “Sorry, Alex.”

Alex knows he is. But he can never be sorrier than she is. She asks him for a favor, with her eyes instead and he just nods. God, she didn’t want to do this to Casey—not again. She swore never again.

* * *

_She asked me to say goodbye._

Words hurt. That’s all they’re supposed to do. They’re not supposed to break the person beyond repair. At least that’s what Casey thought, only for her to be proven otherwise right now. The hand that she was using to raise the glass intended for a toast for Alex turned weak as soon as the words registered in her mind. When it will clear to her, she has no idea.

Casey thinks Hammond is turning around to leave—hasn’t he delivered enough bad news already? Instead, he walks to her and draws a letter out of his coat pocket.

“There wasn’t time for her to say goodbye in person but she specifically told me to give this to you, Miss Novak.” Her hands almost dart out fast to get the piece of envelope in her grasps-she managed not to and control herself.

She would read the letter later, when she’s home. Casey dismisses everyone into the night. She didn’t want to but she had to be on her own. She could tell Liv but—god knows what Olivia would think of _them_.  

When she’s finally alone, she opens it and inside comes with the letter is a photo of them that even Casey wasn’t aware of its existence. Alex probably took it those times she was utterly bored. Maybe that was the time she’d been fiddling around Casey’s apartment and told Casey she found a camera.

Tears fall down on her cheeks. It was of her cuddled to Alex in her—their couch as—well they were probably arguing about something here, yet Alex’s hand held hers and she was only looking down at Casey, the redhead’s back saddled to her, with loving eyes.

_Alex is really one for the dramatics._

Casey flips the photo. And she could see Alex’s smile, albeit bittersweet, still a smile while writing the few words she’d written.

**_This farewell is temporary, my love. I will come back home to you._ **

**_Your Alex_ **


End file.
